


Rayllum Valentine's Week 2021

by Imawriteritswhatido



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Rayllum, Valentine's Day, and all that good stuff, fandom event, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imawriteritswhatido/pseuds/Imawriteritswhatido
Summary: In celebration of the holiday of love, let's see the shenanigans that our favorite Elf/Human couple (besides Arwen and Aragorn) get up to
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 59





	1. Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wordswithdragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordswithdragons/gifts).



Solemnly, Rayla waited. Waited for the sun to rise. Soon, the day would begin and the most infamous day of the year would begin.

The holiday which little Moonshadow elves still told stories about to scare each other during the darkest of nights during new moons.

The day on which humans celebrated their own dismemberment, presenting the bloody evidence to one another in a macabre show of their passions.

The day as infamous to the elves as the death of Avizandum.

The Day of Valentine.

But today, Rayla was ready. More than ready.

The doors and windows to her and Callum’s adjoining rooms had been barricaded. She’d stockpiled enough provisions to last three people a week and a half, her bed made for an excellent rampart when turned on its side, and she’d set enough improvised traps in the room to make any would be assailant stop long enough for her to disarm them.

Moonshadow elves could do a lot with empty bottles and a few choice dead plants.

But homemade smoke bombs aside, she would have to find Callum and Ezran soon. Callum was just next door, so getting him to safety would be easy, but Ezran was all the way down the hall. Not only would getting to him be dangerous, but getting both the prince and herself back to her fortified room would be too.

But she couldn’t think about that right now. She would never allow Callum or Ezran to be disemboweled by some raving lunatic. They meant too much to her to leave them to some backwards custom humans hadn’t yet out grown.

Suddenly, there was a knock on her door. Rayla steadied her breathing and tightened her grip on her weapon. This was it.

“Rayla? Are you up?”

Callum!

Rayla jumped over her bed and over her trip wires, making a dash for the door. Removing the chair she’d jammed under the doorknob, Rayla opened the door enough to see outside.

“Callum?”

Callum stood in front of her door, a sheepish smile on his face and his hands behind his back.

“Hi Rayla,” he said, wiggling his fingers before returning the hand to behind his back.

“Are you alone?” Rayla asked.

Callum frowned.

“Yes…?” he said, confusion on his face.

“Well, get in here!”

Grabbing him by the collar, Rayla dragged him through the door, slamming it shut behind him. She was briefly aware of something hitting the floor behind him, but paid in no mind. Their survival was her top priority.

“Rayla, is everything al—what happened to your room!?”

Ignoring his question, Rayla unceremoniously picked Callum up bridal style and bounded across the room until they were safe behind her bed.

“There,” Rayla said, dropping him, “we should be safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“Shush.”

Rayla placed a finger over his lips.

“I need your help. You’re safe, but Ezran’s still in his room.”

“He’s not in his room.”

Rayla felt her stomach drop.

“He’s what?”

“He’s outside the castle. You know for Valentine’s Day.”

This was not good. Ezran was outside the castle. Away from Rayla or any of the guards, he could be torn apart by a frenzied mob.

“Stay here,” she said, rising, “I’ll go get him.”

“Rayla, wait.”

Callum made a grab for her arm.

“Don’t try to stop me Callum,” Rayla said.

Callum frowned.

“Stop you? From what?”

Not as agile as she was, Callum opted to take the route around her rampart to talk to her face to face. Which unfortunately meant he would be headed straight for one of her tripwires.

“Callum…!”

All too late, Callum became aware of the line at his feet and the sound of dozens of glass bottles falling from where Rayla had secured them on the ceiling with a web of fishing lines. The air filled with black pepper and dust, sending Callum and Rayla fleeing from the room coughing and rubbing their eyes.

“What the hell was that?” Callum spluttered, “Are we preparing for war?”

“Not,” Rayla said, thumping her chest with a fist, “Valentine’s Day.”

Callum looked like he was about to explain something, only to suddenly slap his hand to his forehead and then sprint down the hall.

Great, Rayla thought, now I have to princes who forgot about self-preservation.

The consternation was short lived, however, as Callum returned, carefully carrying a box in his hands.

“Callum, what’s that?”

Callum blushed and held out the box to her.

“I…I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh, Callum, you didn’t…”

“It’s fine. I wanted to.”

Wanted to? Callum wanted to vivisect his fellow humans?

“I had Barius and Ezran’s help. I… I had to call in some favors but…”

Callum’s eyes shifted around the room, as if there would be words to say written on the walls before finally looking at her again.

“Here,” he said, handing her the parcel, “I was going to give it to you first thing this morning, but I was so nervous, I guess…”

Rayla didn’t hear the rest. She could only stare down at the plain off-white package now in her hands.

The love of her life, a deranged maniac who gave her a box of severed body parts on this most grim of holidays.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

Rayla looked up, where she found Callum watching her with expectant eyes. Expectant puppy dog eyes no-one could say no to.

Rayla sighed.

Might as well get the mental scarring over with.

Gingerly, she lifted the lid, bracing herself for the stink she knew accompanied pieces of the dead.

Except there were no dead body parts in the box.

Instead, nestled inside the box was a moonberry tart (she could tell from the smell; the non-threatening, non-stinky, delicious smell) and artfully written on top of it, in pieces of dough, was the message ‘For Me, My Elf, and I’.

“Callum,” Rayla said, looking up at him, “I don’t understand.”

Callum’s previously proud expression changed to one of confusion.

“I thought you said you liked the moonberry tart recipe Barius had.”

“No, I do, it’s just…”

Her confusion probably mirrored his own by now.

“Why?”

Callum shrugged.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. This is my Valentine to you.”

“This?”

Rayla looked down at the tart.

“And it’s not made of body parts?”

“Body parts?” Callum asked.

“Because on Valentine’s Day, humans rip hearts and organs out of other humans chest to give to other people they want to sleep with, right?”

For what must have been five minutes, Callum stared at her. Then, as if she’d just told a joke, laughter burst out of him. Rayla scowled.

“Did I miss something?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Callum said, wiping his eyes, “but I think we might need to have a talk about Valentine’s Day.”


	2. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't really what any of you are thinking. I'd already done a first date scenario for another (unfinished) Rayllum event and I felt I wanted to do something new. So, here's some fluffy Rayllum silliness and I promise the next chapter won't be this way.

Red patches of itchy skin climbed over Callum’s body in the mirror as he rubbed another layer of ointment over the agitated skin.

“I told you giant raisins could only lead to trouble.”

Callum looked over at the bed, where Rayla, sulking cutely and with matching hives all over her skin, sat watching him.

“Well, can you sue me for wanting to try something new?”

“Maybe.”

Callum laughed and finished applying the ointment to a particularly bothersome rash on his left pectoral.

“It’s weird,” he said, “we’ve got the same allergy to dried fruit. How crazy is that?”

“Crazy enough to almost start a war,” Rayla said, laying down in bed.

“Runaan wasn’t that upset.” Callum said.

“Well, he would have started a war.”

“Ezran would have talked him out of it.”

“Well, he’s stubborn.”

Callum chuckled and walked over to the bed, sitting down beside the lump of sheets that was his wife.

“Go away,” she said, “I want to be alone with my skin rashes.”

Callum leaned down and gave a lingering kiss to the hair that was sticking out from under the covers.

“Want me to apply the ointment?”

Rayla muttered something and burrowed deeper into her blankets.

“Want me to ring the kitchen and have them send up lunch?”

Rayla said nothing, but made a noise that told Callum she was tentatively considering her options.

“I’ll close the windows and lock the doors. Put out the lights?”

Rayla huffed and threw the bedcovers off.

“Sure,” she said, reaching for the bottom of her bedclothes, “why not?”

Even to their great grandchildren, the castle in Katolis still told the amusing anecdote of the first date that Rayla and Callum ever ate and the consequences thereof.


	3. Chocolates

“This is made from a Bean?”

Rayla looked down at the darkly colored rectangle she held between her fingers. It didn’t look like a bean. It didn’t even smell like a bean. She turned to look over at Callum, who was sitting beside her with a box on his lap.

“You’re putting me on, aren’t you?”

“No,” Callum said, fishing a similarly colored, but circular concoction from the box he’d bought for them and popping it into his mouth.

Rayla frowned, looking back down at the brown rectangle.

“This isn’t going to be like that date-incident?” she asked.

“No way,” Callum said, “I’ve been eating these for years. Nothing bad has ever happened.”

He leaned in conspiratorially.

“Ez, on the other hand, can’t stop until he’s eaten himself sick.”

Rayla had to chuckle at that.

“Besides, that one has peanut butter in it. You’ll love it.”

Rayla looked back down at the rectangle. It didn’t look that special. But if it didn’t look special, it would probably be just as forgettable.

Forgoing everything she’d ever learned or heard about poisons, Rayla popped the rectangle in her mouth and chewed.

And for the briefest of moments, she tasted paradise.

It was so sweet and creamy and nutty and buttery and she had to have more.

“Gimme that one,” she said, making a grab for one shaped like a heart. This one tasted like cherries and Rayla hummed in appreciation of the flavor.

“See,” Callum said, taking one for himself, “I told you it would be great.”

“It is,” Rayla said. “Are there any more flavors?”

Callum nodded, smiling.

“Tons.”


	4. Romantic Mishap

Ezran had learned on his third birthday (through a series of events to complicated to go into… ever) that good days were what you made of them.

It was a lesson he had to repeat to himself every day since he’d taken the throne.

And for the most part, that was enough. Yes, there were days where he had to take off the crown and try to be the boy he was before responsibility had landed on his shoulders, but sometimes it was enough to remind himself that troubles were never permanent when you had people to help you through them.

But of course, Callum, who was laying face down in his bedroom pillow, wasn’t really listening to his advice on the matter and just assumed that his life was ended today.

“I’m doomed,” Callum said, his voiced muffled by the pillow. Ezran rolled his eyes.

“You’re not doomed, Callum. You made a mistake.”

“A huge mistake.”

“You said the same thing the first time you fell off of a horse.”

“But this time I really mean it.”

“Can you at least sit up, so I can hear you better?”

Slowly, Callum sat up on his bed, looking like a wilted flower and turning to face Ezran with eyes that reminded him of a basset hound.

“You’ve never tripped and fallen on top of Rayla in a towel.”

Ezran looked up from where he sat, the plate of jelly tarts on his lap forgotten.

“Wait, was she in a towel or were you in a towel?”

“Yes to both.”

“Ah.”

Ezran nodded. Callum frowned at his younger brother.

“You can’t really ‘ah’ in this case, Ez. You haven’t really liked a girl like this.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

Callum’s eyes shot up and Ezran thought it was a pleasant change from the sad ‘I’m going to cry” expression he’d been wearing.

“Wait, do you like a girl?”

“This is not about me, Callum,” Ezran said, setting his plate of treats aside and steepling his fingers like he’d seen adults do, “This is about how you’re not doomed.”

“But my relationship with Rayla is,” Callum said, throwing up his hands, “she’s gonna hate me.”

“Did she say she was going to hate you?”

“Well...”

Callum scratched the back of his neck, “no, she just... screamed and punched me.”

“She punched you?”

Callum sighed.

“Yeah. She was blushing and just...”

Callum sighed again and Ez hoped he wasn’t going to do that every time he started a new sentence that night.

“I feel like I kind of deserved it.”

“Well then, tell her that and apologize to her.”

Callum stared at him as if he’d just sprouted a tail.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

Sighing one more time, Callum rose and walked over to Ezran.

“Can’t hurt to try,” he said, ruffling Ezran’s hair. Ezran smiled as his brother walked to the door, picking his plate up and returning it to his lap. Callum turned when he reached the door.

“Wish me luck,” he said.

With his mouth full, Ezran could only cross his fingers. Ezran knew Callum wouldn’t need luck. Not when Rayla had stopped him earlier with similar concerns about punching him.

Grown up love is so complicated, Ezran thought to himself, biting into a new jelly tart.

But at least he’d been able to make it a little less complicated for his crazy brother and elf friend.

Good days were what you made of them. And he hoped Callum and Rayla knew that they could still make today a good day.


	5. Flowers

Lorea’s shop was one of the three flower shops in Katolis proper, not counting the carts and stands that sold them on street corners and the stalls that came and went with farmers’ markets.

But out of all of them, Lorea was proud to own the one closest to the castle and the oldest. Her great grandparents had built it when the castle had neared completion, her grandmother had made a name for the shop helping bashful guards and servants pick out somethings for their sweethearts, her mother had decorated a float of greenery for a parade celebrating the end of the infamous Katolis famine, and she herself had supplied lilies to both Queen Sarai’s wedding and funeral.

You couldn’t just earn that kind of publicity. It was a generational thing.

So, when a lanky youth who’d forgone sleeves in spite of the lingering chill of the air came through her door and began perusing flowers with a rather lost expression, she decided that she’d try to guess how long it took him to ask for help in picking out the flowers he obviously wanted for a significant other.

By this point, she’d watched him reach for and reconsider the same white roses five times.

Shaking her head, Lorea hobbled out from behind the counter and with practiced silence, stalked up behind the boy.

“Anything I can help you with, sonny?” she said, as loudly as she could.

The boy squawked (that could be the only name for the sound he made) and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“OH,” he said, only slightly breathless, “I’m just browsing…”

Lorea gave him a grin, one that showed off all twenty-eight of her teeth.

“If you’re gonna buy those, buy em. I’ve watched you consider them for the past half hour.”

The boy frowned and turned back to look at the white roses.

“I already looked at these?”

“Only white roses in the shop.”

The boy fidgeted and scratched the back of his neck (Lorea never understood why people did that when they were nervous).

“Well, you could help me with something.”

“Don’t feel too bad about it,” Lorea said, slapping the boy on the back, “being an idiot at flowers isn’t a boy thing. I’ve met girls who wouldn’t know poison ivy if it introduced itself and asked for a dance.”

Lorea guffawed at her own joke.

“So, sonny,” she said, moving back behind the counter, “what do ya need?”

“Well,” the boy said, “Let’s say, hypothetically, I was looking for flowers for a certain special someone, who’s more special than most people…”

“Do you mean “I have deep feelings for this person” special, “this person’s a little on the slow side but I love them” special, or “this person is out of the ordinary and I love them for it” special?”

“The first and the last one,” the boy said, “And if I, still hypothetically, really want to let them know that I feel this way, what flower would I use to tell them this?”

“Well, sonny,” Lorea said, getting out a pad of paper and a pencil, “you’re gonna need more than one flower.”

“More than one? Um, hypothetically of course!”

“Trust me,” Lorea said, “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve probably been alive.”

Lorea frowned and looked up at her newest customer.

“Am I going to have to begin every sentence I say to you with ‘hypothetically?”

The boy shook his head.

“No, I think we’re clear on that.”

Lorea nodded.

“Good. Now, tell me about this hypothetical girl.”

For a moment, the boy looked back at the white roses, as if considering taking the easy way, but then shook his head and turned back to her.

“She’s…I don’t know where to start.”

“Well, you can try or we’ll be here all day.”

The boy looked deep in thought, his expression growing softer and warmer by the minute, as if the very memory of this girl he claimed was hypothetical was enough to keep him warm in lieu of his missing sleeves.

“She’s…incredible.”

Not much help, Lorea thought, hope we get to more solid terms than that.

“When we first met, I didn’t know we’d feel the way we would. She’s brave and strong and caring and witty…

Strong, so oak leaves, Lorea wrote on her pad of paper.

“She’s changed my life so much. Before I met her, I thought I was bad at everything. But she believed in me and she helped me figure some things out.”

Angelica for inspiration. Haven’t sold many of those this year.

“And sometimes, when I’m drawing, I just start doodling her.”

Definitely some Angelica in there. With Blue salvia, meaning I think of you,

“And this one time, when we went to the beach, she did this adorable thing where she dipped one toe in the water when she thought no-one was looking.”

White camellia blossoms, to say you’re adorable.

“And it’s so weird, but a good weird. Like a total stranger became my best friend and then became my girlfriend

His face falls as he realizes.

“Hypothetically of course”

Lorea didn’t have the heart to tell the boy his plea of hypothetical was all but useless.

“Well, you’ve got a fine bouquet right there,” Lorea said, “but I think you need a flower that really sells it. One of the ‘I love you” flowers.”

“There’s more than one?”

“Sure; red roses, red tulips, red chrysanthemums, asters, carnations, ferns, heliotropes, honeysuckle, ivy, white jasmine, lily-of-the-valleys, morning glories…”

“Do you have anything that says ‘you were my best friend, but now I really like you?”

Lorea tapped her chin before snapping her fingers.

“Wait right here.”

Hobbling over to the section where she kept her best selections, Lorea picked up a pot of Yellow roses with red tips for the boy to see.

“I usually keep these for regular clients, but since we’re talking hypotheticals, I think I could spare one or two for this hypothetical bouquet. ‘They mean friendship turning into love.”

The boy smiled dazzlingly.

“That’s perfect!”

Lorea sat the pot back down and walked back over to the counter.

“I’ll need to place an order for the salvia, but I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a boy whose father grows them and will give me a sprig or two for a pot of my xenias. I can have the flowers ready buy Tuesday. Earlier for the right price.

Grinning, the boy reached into his pocket and slapped a gold piece onto the counter.

“Keep the change,” he said, elation in his words, “I’ll come back to pick them up next week.”

“Oh, so we’re not talking in hypotheticals?”

The boy didn’t hear her teasing or didn’t care. he just put another copper piece down on the counter.

“For your troubles,” he said and headed for the door.

Lorea smiled at the spring in his step.

“And put a jacket on,” she called after him, “she won’t want to kiss you if you catch cold!”


	6. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little more abstract in how it relates to the prompt, but I'm sure you'll all enjoy it nonetheless.

“So, what is this thing Callum and Rayla are doing again?”

Runaan sighed as if he was talking to a child.

Honestly, of all the humans Runaan had met since being de-coined, Soren was probably the one he least cared for. Not that he thought that he was bad… but that he could just be so damn dense sometimes.

“The gealladh,” Runaan said, “is one of the most sacred of Moonshadow ceremonies. It has been a traditional part of courtship since time immemorial.”

“Which means it’s been around such a bloody long time, some people can’t believe when someone else hasn’t heard of it.”

Runaan looked at his husband out of the corner of his eye, while Ethari simply proved that one could indeed drink mead casually.

“Ok,” said Soren, “And this Go-lad…”

“Gealladh,” Runaan corrected.

“Right, Go-land, is like an engagement?”

“No, more like a pre-engagement engagement,” said Ethari.

Soren frowned.

“You lost me.”

“It’s like training for living together,” said Opeli, setting down her wine glass, “the way I understand it, the couple is supposed to live together for a month to see if they’re ready for the engagement.”

For a moment, Soren’s eyebrows bunched together, before realization lit his face.

“Now I get it,” he said. Confusion then returned to his face.

“Then why didn’t you just say that?”

“Probably because it sounded better that way,” Ezran said, returning from his trip to the bathroom. After setting Bait down on the counter, who made a beeline for a bowl of peanuts on the bar, he raised a finger to summon the barkeep.

“May I have some more milk, please?” he asked.

The barkeep gave Bait a skunk eye, which the glow toad returned, but said nothing and went to fetch the boy king a fresh glass.

“I can respect that,” Soren said, taking a drink of his juice (which he’d insisted be served this him in a tankard), “but I still don’t get what the difference between this and a regular human engagement is?”

“It was Callum’s idea,” Ezran said, “he wanted to be respectful of the culture of the woman he’s going to get married to.”

“Well, I guess I can see the appeal,” Soren said, “I mean, alone together for a week. Might lead to some fun times, am I right?”

His bouncing eyebrows elicited only silence from his fellow patrons.

“The gealladh is considered a failure unless the two participants are celibate for the week.”

Soren frowned.

“But they’re gonna get married, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, what’s the big deal if they… fadoodle a little?”

“If someone can’t be trusted to keep their hands to themselves in a room with an unmarried person,” Ethari said, “then how could they be trusted to keep the sacred vow of marriage?”

Soren looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it.

“Well, what are they gonna do together while this go-thingy is going on for a week?”

“Talk,” Opeli said crisply, as the barkeep refilled her wine glass, “clean house, read, maybe go see a play.”

“Rayla will probably practice,” Ethari said, “And Callum will probably draw.”

Runaan’s drink stopped midway to his lips.

“Callum draws?”

Ethari frowned.

“You didn’t know that? What did you think he carried around that sketchbook for?”

“I thought it was a ledger.”

“Ok,” Soren said, turning toward the tavern in his stool.

“Who here knew Prince Callum could draw?”

Seven hands, plus Ezran’s, Opeli’s, the Barkeep, and Bait’s front left leg rose in response to the question.

“Draw as in a duel or draw like a picture?” someone in a corner booth in the back asked.

“The last one,” Soren replied.

A ninth hand was raised.

“I thought it was a ledger,” Runaan said, returning to his drink.

“Why would it be a ledger?” Ezran asked.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Ethari said, putting a hand on Runaan’s shoulder, “Soren’s usually the last to figure things out around here and he gets by alright.”

Soren smiled.

“Yeah, I—wait what?”

“To answer Soren’s question,” Opeli said, “this marriage is a sacred promise between two countries as much as it is between two people. And it would be best to start with our right foot.”

“Is that a wedding superstition?” Soren asked, “I think I’ve heard that somewhere.”


	7. Happily Ever After.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it; the final chapter. I'm so happy I managed to get this one finished. I've tried events like this before, but haven't been able to finish them (at least not many of them). Other than going back and finishing those events (and my numerous other projects), I think I also might try for some bonus chapters expanding on the events in this series. Who knows? Anyway, thank you all so much for the comments and kudos and I hope you enjoy our final chapter

They told stories of the elf and the prince long after they were gone.

They started as all stories did. A rumor here, a boast there, a mix up or two and the biography of Prince Callum of Katolis and Rayla of Xadia were snowballing into a romantic epic both would be embarrassed to hear.

The corrupt High Mage became an evil king who treated Callum and Ezran as slaves.

The elven girl went from assassin to princess between tellings.

The High Mage’s daughter became a demoness, summoned by the evil king to destroy the princes.

Callum and Ezran switched ages because one person didn’t think little boys should be kings, that the older of two sons should be first in line for the throne.

The egg became a fabulous stone, which became smaller until it was a piece of the crown, then a ring that the young prince wanted to give to the elven girl.

The prince and the elf were variously described as childhood friends, engaged to be married, whatever the storyteller liked best really.

Soren’s role in the story diminished until he was forgotten entirely.

No-one spoke of the army at the spire. It was all the two princes and the elven princess who used magic and the power of love to banish the evil sorcerer king to the dark.

Nobody mentioned the Dragon Prince, or the Dragon Queen, King Harrow, Sarai, Aavaros, Barius, Bait, Ethari, Runaan, the Dragon Guard, Sunfire Elves, the Queen of Duren, Prince Kasef, Sol Regem, Corvus, or General Amaya.

But if the people who inspired the stories that children acted out in their backyards could hear the story, they wouldn’t care about any of that.

They would only ask one question…

How does it end?

And they would get three different answers.

The first ending is that when the evil sorcerer king threw the elven princess off the spire, the prince would sprout wings to fly after her and after rescuing her, they would banish their adversary with a spell of love.

Another ending is that the evil sorcerer king was eaten by a dragon, in vengeance for killing its mate before the story.

The final ending featured the boy king stabbing the evil sorcerer king when he tried to sneak attack him.

And the final verse was always “ _with the evil king defeated, the young prince and the elf married and they lived happily ever after._ ”

And that would be the part that they would be most happy with.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to comment and leave kudos. And feel free to check out the prompts on my tumblr where they'll be posted first, or to join in with your own submissions.


End file.
